Live Dangerously
by two fish
Summary: A late-night lesson involving peanut butter turns into something more.


**Peanut Butter for a College Girl**

"What are you doing?"

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

The drone of the refrigerator filled the silence. At last he turned to her, a spoon lodged shamelessly between his lips. Her eyes narrowed, and the edges of his frown quirked into a devilish smirk. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and made a seductive display of sliding the spoon in and out of his mouth, sucking and licking the utensil until at last removing it with satisfied moan. "Delicious."

"That was a brand new jar of peanut butter," she stated, as though he didn't already know. "_My _brand new jar of peanut butter."

He shrugged, not bothered. "Virgin territory. I couldn't resist." He turned back around and went in for another scoop.

She scoffed disgustedly. "Grow up."

"Speaking of which," he said between licks, "isn't it past your bedtime?" He leaned against the counter, quirking an eyebrow in her general direction. The kitchen was relatively dark, and he could barely make out the contours of her face.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at the microwave, which read half past two. "I was hungry," she said defensively.

"For me?"

She deadpanned in response. He laughed. But then, growing sober, he conceded, "It's ok, Case. I couldn't sleep, either."

She appreciated his honesty, but it was her turn to grin. "Is The Unshakable Derek Venturi nervous?" She sauntered closer, an eyebrow raised.

"Does Ice-Princess Casey MacDonald care?" he countered, meeting her gaze.

She snorted and dismissed the train of their conversation with a transitioning eye-roll. "Look, if we're going to be living together for the next four years, you should at least learn _not_ to eat out of my peanut butter jar."

"No," he contended, waving a loaded spoon in her face, "_you_ should learn how to _share_."

"I'll share _food_," she negotiated, "but I won't share _germs_." She tried to set him with a firm glare, but it withered uncertainly beneath his suddenly soft expression and incredulous eyes. "Stop looking at me like that," she whispered. It was as though he were trying to undress her metaphorical layers to see into her soul. The feeling that he had suddenly, after three years, _succeeded_ caused her to shift nervously beneath his omniscient gaze.

Derek shook his head and moved towards her. Startled, Casey backed herself against the kitchen counter. "Look, Case," he began, brandishing a spoonful of peanut butter. "You need to loosen up."

He continued drawing nearer.

"You're going to _university_ in _seven hours." _

_Nearer_.

"For once in your life, _live a little_ _dangerously_."

He had closed the space between them. One of his legs he eased between hers, using it to nudge her onto the countertop. The sudden push and release of pressure there was an intoxicating sensation; her eyes fluttered shut, and when she opened them, she found him holding the spoon two inches from her faintly parted lips. She froze.

"Open your mouth."

The spell was broken. Her brows came together in record time. "_What_?" It came out as a breath, one she was not aware she'd been holding.

"Open your mouth, Princess," Derek demanded.

"Wha—no!" she stuttered, halfway to becoming hysterical, mostly because of the thought of eating after the most disgusting person she knew, but also at his unnerving proximity. She could feel the heat from his body, and the warm stick of his breath on her skin. "This is _so __wrong_," she said without thinking, not even aware to which circumstance she was referring.

"_Open_."

She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head defiantly.

"You always make things difficult, Case," he sighed.

Suddenly, he lifted his hand to her jaw, and she was so startled by his touch that all she could do was allow him to ease open her lips and rest the spoon gently between them. Then, placing a finger beneath her chin, he lightly lifted it upwards to close her mouth around the spoon. Then, slowly, he pulled it from her lips and tenderly tilted back her head.

"Swallow," he commanded. His fingers felt warm and soft against her face.

Her eyes were glued in bewildered fascination to his own. Obediently, she took an audible gulp. Satisfied with her response, he brought his fingers again to her mouth, using his thumb to wipe away some of the peanut butter left on her lips. Then he smiled an impish smile and whispered, almost proudly, "_That's_ my college girl."

His thumb lingered a little longer than necessary. It was all she could do to breath.


End file.
